“And this enlightened gentleman,” said Ob Hahn ironically, “has just termed it fetishism. The ignorance––”
“Oh, I say!” protested the man at Ob Hahn’s side. “I mean, you seem to think I intended something opprobrious. As a matter of fact––”
“We’ve an argument, Gregg,” laughed Snap. “This is Sir Arthur Coniston, an English gentleman, lecturer and sky-trotter––that is, he will be a sky-trotter; he tells us he plans a number of voyages.”
The tall Englishman in his white linen suit bowed acknowledgment. “My compliments, Mr. Haljan. I hope you have no strong religious convictions, else we will make your table here very miserable!”
The third passenger had evidently kept out of the argument. Snap introduced him as Rance Rankin. An American––a quiet, blond fellow of thirty-five or forty.
I ordered my breakfast and let the argument go on.
“Won’t make me miserable,” said Snap. “I love an argument. You said, Sir Arthur?...
“I mean to say, I think I said too much. Mr. Rankin, you are more diplomatic.”